Colin Pearson, who has died aged 84, was one of the most creatively charismatic of postwar British potters. Noted not only for his highly individual vessels, which broadened the language of the potter's wheel, he was also a masterly educator who imparted his love of clay and his extraordinary knowledge of the chemistry of ceramics to generations of students.

That many potters in Britain and abroad began to approach clay on the wheel with far more freedom, bringing out the raw physicality of the material, is due in part to his pioneering example. Rejecting some of the traditional methods of working, he evolved his own signature form, developed in a variety of ways; the vessel with wings, powerfully conceived cylinders with vertical or horizontal attachments that gave his work great sculptural presence.

Pearson was born in Friern Barnet, north London. He was passionate about drawing as a boy but it was only in 1946, on being demobbed, that he used his ex-service grant to study painting at Goldsmiths College, London. Here, he met his future wife, fellow student Leslie Thomas, and discovered his lasting fascination for clay. Taught by the well-known potter Kenneth Clark, he began to make maiolica wares, influenced by the in-vogue tin glaze ceramics of William Newland, Margaret Hine and James Tower.

But Pearson wanted to explore the broader potential of clay, and joined the staff at Winchcombe pottery in Gloucestershire. Here, he could gain useful throwing experience (the skill of building up a pot on the wheel) in a traditional country workshop. He spent a happy year there, gaining a more rounded knowledge of the potter's art and a respect for craft values that never left him.

Still hungry for more technical knowledge, he then went to work at the Royal Doulton factory in Lambeth, south London, where he was employed in slipcasting in the chemical porcelain department. The industrial processes fascinated Pearson, keen as he was to investigate the science of ceramics, a discipline as much about chemistry and engineering as art. He began to test bodies and glazes that were more practical and durable for everyday use.

In this respect he shared similar views to the potter David Leach, and in 1955 he went to help Leach establish a training pottery at the Friars at Aylesford Priory, Kent. Here, they produced slipware and later stoneware, loosely modelled on the Leach pottery in St Ives, Cornwall. Three years later, Pearson began a parallel teaching career, lecturing at Camberwell College of Arts (where his pupils included Mo Jupp, Ian Godfrey and Ewen Henderson), and later at Harrow School of Art and Medway College of Design, Rochester.

Popular with his students, he was greatly admired for his generosity of knowledge and a belief that rules were there to be broken. Experimentation was a lifelong passion for Pearson, events in which his pupils and studio assistants were always actively involved. In 1996 his contribution earned him a rare honorary fellowship of the University of the Arts, London.

In 1961, with the help of his wife and the American potter Byron Temple, he set up his own workshop, the Quay pottery, in Aylesford. Here, he made succinctly designed practical tableware - press moulded dishes, big casseroles and plates as well as more individual pieces. Richly glazed with minimal abstract decoration, they were modern pots for modern living. Yet Pearson remained creatively restless, his low boredom threshold pushing him to explore other areas. He wanted to investigate the more expressive potential of ceramics, to prove that the wheel was capable of so much more. He tried out different modes of throwing, making more sculptural pieces in a softer, more plastic clay on a slower wheel, achieving freer, more rugged textures with irregular, gestural throwing marks.

Despite their strong material dynamic, these pots were barely noticed until a major show at the British Crafts Centre in Covent Garden in 1971, when Pearson added his now famous wings to many of the pieces. Deriving ideas from ancient Chinese bronzes and Tang and Song dynasty ceramics, he was now radically combining the techniques of throwing and construction. Whether working in bold stoneware or crisp, delicate porcelain, the 1970s and 80s saw a fertile development of pots with richly pooling sprayed glazes and slips, the colours accentuating the pot's contours. His prize-winning work (awards included the 33rd Grand Prix at Faenza, Italy, in 1975) was shown internationally, and pieces were collected avidly by major museums in Britain and abroad.

In the early 1980s the Pearsons moved to north London, establishing a studio in Islington. It marked a new creative period in which he could concentrate on increasingly ambiguous assembled pieces and develop new glazes and surfaces on a multiplicity of forms - not only big, broad bowls but stem pots, vases and tall jugs, their curving and twisting attachments adding life, stability and balance. Rims, delicately torn and rented, helped to open out rather than close form. With the aid of his assistants - Stan McInnes, Marco Toro and daughter Clare - he produced ceramics of even greater constructive complexity. His pioneering use of polyester fibre enabled him to manipulate clay in unexpected ways, folding and bending it into very different structures.

Having moved to a final studio in Hackney in 2000, Pearson continued to work, with increased assistance, despite the advance of Parkinsonism (a variant of Parkinson's disease), a condition so complex he once proudly told me he was known to every hospital in London. An exhibition at the Marianne Heller Gallery in Heidelberg marked his 80th birthday, but by then he was too poorly to attend.

In his prime, a bear of a man with a great appetite for living and a wicked sense of humour (friends will not forget his practical joking, his life-enhancing silliness), it was painful to see his body so maligned by illness. Yet with the enduring support of his wife and family, and latterly the staff at the Mary Seacole House daycare centre, Pearson's spirit won through, his ability to laugh never dimmed. He will be remembered not only as one of the great and most inventive potters of his generation, but as a remarkably tenacious and warm human being.

He is survived by Leslie and their three children, Julian, Clare and Daniel.